Blood-Moon Read online

  Needless to say, it got their attention.

  Paxton did likewise, screaming at them at the same time. Sadly, we hadn’t been quick enough! A sickening crunch announced the grizzly fact that Wilkins’ skull had been crushed. He jerked, went rigid, then lay completely still.

  The black jaguar then started dragging his body along the ledge. I was determined not to let that happen, and began raising my gun again.

  As I did so, I could have sworn I saw the outline of running figures in the jungle behind Paxton. Human figures! But that would be impossible, unless they had been drawn to the sound of gunfire.

  Suddenly, two more cats leapt out from the undergrowth behind Paxton, while the two lighter jaguars that had helped take down Wilkins, turned and ran at me.

  I saw Paxton fall, one cat having its jaws firmly clamped around his neck, the other, working with it, holding onto his ankle. He didn’t go down without a fight and managed to drill the one on his foot through the skull, before his neck snapped.

  I was just about to empty my magazine into the remaining jaguars, when I saw the one Paxton had shot through the head twitch and start to rise off the ground.

  What the fuck!

  The other two cats were almost upon me, so I reacted instinctively. Using my momentum, I bunched my muscles and launched myself out from the rocks, knowing full well the areas closer to the ravine wall would be the most dangerous.

  I fell for what seemed an eternity, only to have the wind knocked out of me as I hit the water hard. Coughing and spluttering, I broke the surface and looked back up toward the ridge.

  A blood-moon was beginning to rise, and by its light I saw five silhouettes peering over the top of the ledge, growling to each other as if they were having a conversation. I couldn’t make out their eyes, but I knew each one of them was looking directly at me–even the one that had been shot in the head!

  For some reason, that sent a shiver all the way down my spine and into my boots. Striking out for the opposite shore, I decided to put as much distance between the jaguars and myself as possible.

  I’d lost my machine gun in the pool, but the pistol was still thankfully secure in my shoulder holster. Patting my hip, I also confirmed my ka-bar was still there. With one last look at the eerie crazy-gang, I ran in the opposite direction, determined to put as much distance as possible between them and me. Needless to say, I quickly lost my sense of direction. I can honestly say I didn’t give a shit!

  * * *

  That’s how I found myself here the next day, well and truly screwed!

  I knew I was roughly in the area of Coroiquillo, but that was about it. I’d lost my map, my compass, all means of communicating with the outside world, and almost all of my food. And just in case I was daring to remain positive in this impossible situation, it was still raining as if the world was trying hard not to disappoint Noah and Co.

  Even though water and shelter would normally be my priority, I was more concerned with remaining hidden from that pack of unnatural predators. That meant cold camp, as I didn’t want a fire to signal my presence and make things easier for them. Without my main Bergen though, a fire wouldn’t make much difference. The only food I had now was emergency rations–in a pouch on my utility belt–and that would run out soon enough.

  If I didn’t get help soon, I’d find myself dehydrating, losing weight, and strength rapidly. Not the future my parents had envisioned for me, I was sure.

  Using basic survival training, I made haste without taking unnecessary risks and began following the deepening water downstream, choosing a zigzag course to keep me away from the obvious escape route of the riverbank.

  Even though I don’t spook easily, I had the damndest feeling I was being followed. By what, I didn’t know, as I could never quite get to see it clearly. It couldn’t have been a jaguar, because it was too big, and yet no human I knew of could move that fast or silently.

  It was very difficult to see more than a few yards ahead in thick jungle at the best of times. Even on sunny days, the endlessly green hues seemed to blend into each other, swallowing everything they encompass whole. When it rains, it reduces visibility even more, forcing you to use your other senses. So, even though I couldn’t see anything, I knew something was there. The multitude of jungle animals–always raucous–had cut their relentless chorus on a number of occasions today, indicating the presence of an unknown predator… always just out of sight, somewhere out there amongst the sea of infinite green.

  Even in the added silence, I couldn’t hear a thing. Whatever it was, it displayed stealth beyond anything I’d ever experienced before and there was no way I was going to go looking for evidence of it alone.

  I couldn’t believe a jaguar would still be trying to track me–let alone five of them!

  Perhaps this was why the Quechan’s didn’t like the area. If a pack of jaguars had somehow come together and claimed the area as their territory, stories of their unusual behavior would be attributed to all sorts of folklore and myth. I now knew the danger to be very real, whatever its origin, and was determined not to end up on the menu.

  Without warning, the rain ended as suddenly as it had begun.

  I couldn’t help it. I stood there in a little clearing and let the sun beat down on my face for a few moments, soothing away my anxiety. Stepping forward, I washed the dirt and grime off my face, using the last of the rainwater as it made its way down through the dense foliage of the canopy high above.

  Bambi eat your heart out.

  Then I had another more disturbing thought, as I remembered the scene from Alien where Brett, played by Harry Dean Stanton, follows the ship’s cat into a cargo area. He washed his face in a similar fashion just before meeting a grizzly end.

  Ah, dammit!

  Looking around, I scanned the tangled confusion surrounding me.

  Nothing!

  Within minutes I actually began to steam, which was surprisingly uncomfortable, so I decided to stick to the forest’s edge to make use of the shade there.

  The rest of the jungle was steaming too, which made the thick, cloying air difficult to breathe. As such, the afternoon wound on and on. Eventually, I found myself falling into a muggy–half fatigued/half alert–fugue and ended up stumbling along the river course in my own little world.

  A loud snap from the opposite bank forced me to release that happy place!

  I glanced–my hand twitching toward the gun–and saw nothing. I looked again, harder this time, and there not six yards from me into the undergrowth, I noticed the same striking woman I’d seen the week before. Equally as naked, equally as magnificent. And this time, she was smiling.

  How I’d missed her the first time, I don’t know, as her exquisitely healthy outline was a sharp and welcome contrast to the endless dappled greens and browns I’d been forced to endure over the past weeks. It was almost as if she was invisible until she chose not to be—Considering my current predicament, I’d really have to ask her how she did that.

  As before, her eyes caught and held my attention. Her gaze seemed to pass through my eyeballs and sink right into my mind. It felt like I was being checked-out in some way. It surprised me so much that I didn’t know what to say. Before I knew it, she was gone, somehow melting from view in an instant–again!

  “Wait!” I called. “It’s dangerous, ther…”

  I quickly sloshed through the stream, the water reaching my thighs and was at the place I had last seen her–or I thought I was.

  I came out of the undergrowth to check my bearings and re-entered. Yes, this was definitely the place I’d spotted her. Yet, where were her tracks? Where was the sign?

  A low growl rumbled out of the jungle close by and I immediately dropped into a crouch, drawing my machete and gun in one fluid motion. Remaining still, I waited and listened for any indication of where the animal was.

  Fucking animals are hunting me! What about that woman? She’ll be in danger! Should I shout a warning?

  Fortunately, commons
ense prevailed.

  She obviously knew her way about this jungle, so if anything, she was safer than I was. Additionally, only an idiot would assume indigenous peoples of the world had done a crash course on, ‘Warning Phrases in English’. So I decided to keep quiet.

  No further sounds emanated from the jungle, which was beginning to darken now as the sun began to set. Eventually, I began to relax.

  It always surprised me how quickly the light could fail here, so I decided it was time to choose a campsite while it was still light enough to see clearly. I located a good position less than half a mile away, and after preparing my site, strolled a little further downstream where the canopy thinned out to plan my route for the next day.

  It was almost dark, but I could see the stream was wider here and deeper, opening out into a small valley. As the animals on dayshift quieted, I was able to hear the unmistakable sound of fast running water nearby before the night crew took over fully.

  Must be a major river. Good! Hopefully I can make some progress after I check it out tomorrow.

  Fortunately, I knew the rough latitude of the area we had been operating in and also remembered that the rivers in this region ran in a southerly direction. I picked up some twigs from the floor, about twice as long as my hand and tied them into a cross-sight with some grass. Looking into the sky, I discovered I couldn’t see enough of the constellations to get a fix on any stars that might be circumpolar.

  Not only that, but the nearly full moon was already rising and its strange pinky-orange glow was bright enough to blank out many of those I could have seen. Damn! Perhaps I’ll have better luck on the other bank?

  At least I wouldn’t have to rush now.

  Unless you’ve ever experienced the jungle at night, you’ll never understand the meaning of the term, ‘pitch black’. It gets so dark, that you literally cannot see your hand an inch in front of your face.

  Nothing!

  Not a clue!

  I had remembered to bring a night scope to help in the search for Connor in case the patrol extended into the evenings. But of course, it did me no good now, sitting as it was in one of the side pouches of my backpack, back at the crazy-cat’s lair.

  That’s why this moon would be such a godsend, because although it was blotting out the stars, if things got hairy, it would allow me to run and see where I was going–just!

  Holding the crosshair at arm’s length in my left hand and gripping my ka-bar firmly in my right hand, I edged backwards, searching for a gap through the dense foliage that might afford me a better view.

  I began to push my way through some ferns, and as I did so, I stepped on something soft.

  I started to look down and felt a sudden movement, followed by a snarl. This obviously tipped me off balance and I put my foot out instinctively. No sooner had my foot landed, I felt a sharp pain in my right calf.

  Without thinking, I reacted immediately swinging my machete in a sweeping arc as fast as I could, striking something with the flat of the blade.

  There was another snarl, and in the light of the moon I made out the shape of a large cat curling backwards through the air. What is was exactly, I couldn’t see, as it then bolted for the tree line a few yards away. Once there, it turned to look at me.

  Amazingly, no radiance reflected in its eyes at all! Its face swallowed the light so completely it remained an indistinct silhouette.

  My initial alarm began to drain away. This was obviously not one of the crazy-gang; otherwise she’d have already tried to eat me alive.

  My leg was beginning to throb quite alarmingly, so I knew I had to treat it quickly. Raising my blade so that all two feet of it glinted clearly in the moonlight, I held it toward the beast and said, “Now be a good girl and stay where you are. I won’t hold the love-bite against you as I did just stand on your tail. But please understand, next time I won’t use the flat of the blade. Okay?”

  Of course it didn’t answer. But it did watch my pitiful progress back toward my camp with what can only be described unnatural intelligence. Even though I was sure this couldn’t be one of the jaguars that had killed Wilkins and Paxton, I thought it better to be safe than sorry and took my gun out.

  Slowly and painfully, I limped my way back along the stream, all the time listening for any hint of something that shouldn’t be there, scanning for anything that possessed glowing eyes.

  At last I got to the campsite. Holding my windup torch between my teeth, I used its light to help me examine my leg. Sure enough, I was greeted with the sight of four neat holes in my combat trousers, confirming what I already knew.

  I’d definitely been bitten!

  Fortunately, I still had the emergency provisions in my belt pouches, so I removed the first-aid kit I always made sure I carried and set to work.

  I was feeling a little nauseous, so fervently I hoped it was just shock and not because the cat was suffering from rabies or anything else antisocial. Rolling the fabric up, I used my fingers to gently prize apart the puncture wounds, before liberally dousing the area in a peroxide and Betadine solution. It hurt like hell, but was a better alternative than infection.

  I bound the wound tightly and then set about climbing into the hammock I’d strung out earlier, high up off the ground. It wouldn’t stop the ants from paying a visit, but hopefully it would deter the ‘mad-pack’ from saying hello.

  After that, I finished the last of my water and deliberately wolfed down all of my scant rations. Tomorrow, I’d have to start hunting. But at least tonight, I would give my recuperating body a chance to partially heal before running the risk of the multitude of infections you invite by partaking of jungle wildlife.

  The encounter with the jaguar had unnerved me a little. I unclipped the pistol from its holster and got comfortable with my arms across my chest like a corpse. I was hoping I wasn’t tempting fate, but in this way I’d be able to lift and shoot swiftly.

  Quickly I settled down and tried to rest. No such luck.

  Within thirty minutes my head was pounding, my glands seemed swollen, and for some reason, my kidneys and joints felt as if somebody had beaten me with a baseball bat.

  Although I didn’t sleep, I somehow dozed fitfully–as if in a waking dream–and repeatedly saw a rabid pack of jaguars ripping my friends apart. Every snarl, every tear, every bone crunching snap and answering scream was delivered in excruciating detail.

  Then I swooped through the forest to revisit the tranquil environs of a pool, where a predator relaxing in the sunshine was thanking me for an unexpected meal, freely given.

  Finally, the world span and I envisaged a stunning woman with glorious olive skin and blue-black hair. Her pale blue eyes regarding me carefully from the depths of dense dark foliage, seeking answers to questions I could not hear.

  I awoke with a start.

  Damn! I must have been hallucinating.

  My head was clamped in a vice. I was sweating profusely and it took me a moment to realize the jungle was unusually silent. I held my breath, my fingers closing around the pistol grip as I opened my eyes. I didn’t move for a while, being content to let my vision do the work. Then I saw them.

  I was surrounded by glowing, baleful eyes that reflected the blood fire of the now risen moon. Slowly and deliberately, I started to move into a better position that would increase my chances of hitting the first pair dead center with my opening volley.

  I raised my hand, only to freeze as the owner of one of those sets of eyes stepped out from the trees into the moonlight. The woman I had chanced upon earlier looked back at me with what can only be described as interest on her face.

  Seeing her closely for the first time, I discerned she was perhaps five or ten years older than me, it was hard to tell. Her proud and erect bearing revealed someone who was obviously in the prime of health and in this light, her mane of flowing hair looked like a shining cascade of midnight. She was glorious!

  She was still wearing some form of belt made out of an animal skin from the look of
it, from which hung several sacks the size of a fist.

  I was obviously feeling the effects of a fever or something, because her eyes just didn’t appear natural. They seemed to burn like hot coals and bore their way right through me, into me, knowing me, and holding my attention without any indication of letting go. It was like being hypnotized without realizing it.

  I tried to speak, but found it difficult, “Who? What? Are you…”

  But, try as I might, I couldn’t seem to keep my own eyes open. Against my own volition, my head grew heavier and heavier–like a lead weight–and I lost consciousness.

  * * *

  Several times during the night I experienced the most surreal dream I’d ever had. Either that or I was hallucinating.

  As if viewing the world through a prism and listening to voices through water, I came around the first time to find the mysterious woman kneeling by my side. Only I wasn’t in my hammock any more, I was next to a fire which was roaring like a miniature furnace, announcing our position to the whole world.

  Despite the fire’s urgency, I felt cold to my core and could only concentrate on the pressure of the woman’s hands as she massaged my body from head to toe with some kind of oil. However, the heat that seemed to radiate from every pore of her body was another thing entirely, eclipsing the fire easily. Her shining eyes looked down at me as she continued her ministration, humming a wordless tune over and over.

  I took the opportunity to study her more closely and noticed her smooth olive skin seemed to ripple and glow like liquid topaz in the firelight. The only flaw she seemed to carry was a bruise on her right cheek where she must have ran into something in the dark.

  She’s not invincible after all, I mused.

  I passed out again, coming round an unknown amount of time later.

  It was still dark, the fire was roaring, and although I was still sweating, my insides didn’t feel as if they’d been kicked all over a soccer field anymore. In fact, I felt a sort of detached pleasure.